Walker
by RedSkyNight
Summary: There was a man named Walker, and he walked onward into tragedy.


_**Summary**_: _There was a man named Walker, and he walked onward into tragedy._

_**Disclaimer:** I don't own -Man. _

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_**Walker**_

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There was a man named Walker, and he was o_hsomuchsoverymuch_,_ ohgoditcouldn'tbe _sad. His brother had gone off one night, and not returned...and he had undoubtedly died. How the man called Walker knew, he didn't know. He'd like to think it was because they were brothers, he the eldest twin of the two. But Walker knew, in his heart of hearts, it was the moment he had said it, that he was going to meet with Cross and...he had turned away from him then and went off on his own.

He hadn't ever looked back. (And he did so many times in the past, like a silent promise between the two)

And now Walker, who was also sometimes called by another name by those he was close to (but whom numbered very few), was quite alone. Alone in the sense of _darkspacenowalls_ and _whatisthereIcan'tsee_, and yet, at the same time, he felt the world was crowded. There were beings of all shapes and sizes, cluttering all the dirty spaces and building things to block out the sun...the world was full of the _badgoodeverythinginbetween _people that were just shadows he drifted past (and if he wasn't really paying attention, through) on his never-ending way, walking forward...

-With no brother.

His brother was a bright brat, even when they were old enough to wander about and learn about the world's vices and virtues. He was the shining one, a clownish gentleman who could charm a woman with just a smile, while Walker stood by with a fond look on his face and his eyes darting about to plan the escape routes as a red-faced man with a cane held tightly moved forward towards the premature couple. His brother was the knight in shining armor, surviving and walking on and on, and dragging him along for the ride with him during the early days when food was scarce, no one was to be trusted, and family and warmth were merely dreams to think about when they were safe for the night. He was the one to sing the lullabies for them both when the days had been harsh, and the touch of a mother was the only thing that could sooth the ache that bit chunks from his heart from inside. He was the one to make up a code with which only they could communicate, understand, because they were important to each other, and to Walker...He was his life.

And now he was gone.

When his brother was around it was as if there were more space, it wasn't stuffy, and he could find a patch of sunlight and sing a song without it being trampled under the existence of the others who didn't understand just how insignificant they were in the whole scheme of things. With the Noah (the name made him want to _screamcrylaughoutloud_ to the world who were so self-absorbed, and so incredibly naive as to believe the old tales of monsters and witches and shining knights has really disappeared with the Age of Reason, because, really...were they that wanting for the facade of safety that they forsook the old tales, the tales that ensured the survival of their forefathers? So delusional that they didn't go out of their way, as they should, to tell them?)...

The loss of his brother, understandably enough, left Walker a bit on the strange side. It was not noticeable, his presence, from afar, but once you got close enough in those early days when he was just wandering mindlessly about, you saw it. His voice was half-way to silent, and held a strange, humorous tremor as if he were laughing at your very soul. His eyes, though not dimmed, would twinkle mischievously, as his face belied a dormant feeling of something...it was not quite hate, but something far beyond it-though you wouldn't be able to tell until long afterward when you were reflecting on your day just before you settled in your bed, and that strange face would stare and stare until you shivered and wondered just how close to the devil you had wandered, encountering that horrible, strange, young man. Dancing with the devil gained new meaning when you meandered by that man called Walker.

Now, though this loss did weigh heavily in that strange way, soon Walker began to overcome it. Humanity, he decided, was not worth the blame. It was too insignificant. If anyone were to blame, it would have to be the major players who danced and sang on a stage all their own, shrouded in : those who were sworn enemies of his brother, the supposed apostles of God who belonged to an order with a title of the most hypocritical nature. And those members of the ancient family that had dared raise a hand against their brother, even with his intentions. But he wandered now, having come to terms with the facts, and learned how to adapt.

Oh, there were many different faces he decided to show, wanting to confuse everyone he came across, and his own soul wanting to somehow display at least a portion of the immeasurable amount of pain and grieving it needed to let out, it not being humanly possible to display it all at once...Oh, some called him mad, behind his back, but that wasn't true...And, well, Walker wasn't mad, _per say_. He was just in the head. And...he was fine with that. If he could keep walking (and "not _running away_", he would tell himself), everything would be alright. It was, after all, his brother's final wish, and if he couldn't do that, he was even more of a failure than when his brother had died...

A smile was his favorite expression (because it could mean _sosomanywhatdoyoumean_ things).

There was one thing however that proved infinitely sad that Walker had forgotten and his brother had once confided to a much hated God that he hoped he wouldn't do (under a starry night as he walked cold roads, mind churning after a talk with a red head he could almost call friend, and walking a path he had imagined but never expected to walk, only to come upon a child with near-dead eyes () nestled in a ratty coat and with that unmistakable, burning presence of innocence (_damnitdestroyittearitapart!_) that he found even harder than usual to ignore and master...)

Mana had forgotten what direction forward was, and so he continued to slog through life backwards, never stopping, jumping back and forth (like a small child, jumping through glistening puddles just calling for disruption...), walking forward in a direction of times he desperately wanted to have happen all over again, _againalwaysagainagain_ until he could find out what he did _ohsobleedingwrong _and maybe find some measure of consolation and understanding. That never did happen, but for select moments that were soon forgotten.

And yet one day as he was (albeit, trying to) walking, it changed.

He saw a face, and his condition worsened and bettered.

Because, who but his brother could be looking up at him at the time and with such _beautifulbrownminemine_ brother's eyes that he had searched for these past months?

It was he returned to him, and now they could walk forward together again.

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A/N:_ Did anyone notice something special about Mana?_


End file.
